Tag: Drinking Poetic

Drinking Poetic: The Banana Dance

I’m prouder of the Banana Dance than almost any other drink that I’ve created. More so than I probably have any right to be. It’s an esoteric, nerdy, centrifuge requiring, relatively prep heavy drink that is ultimately delicious, complicated, and easy to batch and execute in a way that belies its complexity. Its evolution is also a damn good microcosm of my personal journey behind the bar in the past few years. 

The Banana Dance began life as the Josephine Baker as an entry for Diageo’s World Class competition three years ago. I had entered my very first competition the year before, a little competition known as World Class and having made it to the Western Regionals I was determined to make it back and prove myself. Prove that I wasn’t just some beach side Santa Monica bartender slinging Vodka Soda’s all day long. I certainly had a chip on my shoulder when I was younger. 

For my entry the following year I looked at the spirits available and decided that I wanted to play to my strengths with a stirred drink and ended up riffing on the modern classic the Chet Baker.  I knew the base was going to be Ron Zacapa Centenario and I wanted a drink name, and a flavor profile, that would compliment the story and flavors of the rum. Enter Josephine Baker. 

Josephine Baker

Josephine Baker was an African-American ex-Pat who rose to fame as a dancer and performer in Paris in the 1920’s. Earnest Hemingway once called her, “the most sensational woman anyone ever saw.” While being a multifaceted performer her most famous act, and photos, are of her dancing in a banana skirt. Josephine was more than a performer though. During WWII Josephine used the freedom granted to her as a performer to spy for the Allied troops and help smuggle refugees out of France. She was also incredibly active in the American Civil Rights movement later in life. Pairing this phenomenal woman’s story with a rum crafted by one of the few female master blenders in the world was a no brainer. 

Too add to that the Giffard Creme de Banan had just be released which provided a perfect flavor, and thematic, compliment to tie the two together. Add in a little amontillado sherry and a passable Old Fashioned style variation on the Chet Baker was born. It was serviceable but unfortunately didn’t make the cut leaving me out of the competition that year. I knew there was something special in there though and couldn’t let the idea go. 

The next year I ended up using some discretionary income to help fund Dave Arnold’s kickstarter for the Spinzall tabletop centrifuge because, well, I’m a nerd. I had already been experimenting with every technique that I possible could from Liquid Intelligence and had voraciously devoured every technique book I could get my hands on. I was actively experimenting with melding flavors in every way that I could. However, there were two pieces of technology that seemed like they would forever bne outside my reach: the rotovap and a centrifuge.  Now here was one of those unicorns just sitting on my kitchen counter. I went nuts. 

I played with infusing and clarifying everything but one of the most successful experiments was that original pairing of Sherry and banana. It was a relatively simple process, slightly overripe bananas were blended/ together with sherry and Pectin X and the resulting smoothie was run through the Spinzall clarifying the mixture. Here phenomenal fresh banana flavor married perfectly with the sherry with out adding any unnecessary sweetness like other creme products.  

The experiments took a hiatus however as I joined Team NoMad as one of the opening Bar Managers for NoMad LA. The training, translating and entire hospitality culture from NYC to LA, and opening four separate venues in a single building consumed my and my team’s attention for months. It was in this period that I also learned to collaborate in a way I never had before.  

Not only was this team larger than any I had ever worked with before, it was also the most talented. And while I was a leader this was not a program that was about me or my force of personality as so many venues I had worked on in the past were. This was about the guest experience and about working as a team to create the best product and experience possible. It was demanding, meticulous, and honestly exhausting. The light at the end of the tunnel was R&D. 

I love doing drink R&D. I love throwing things at the wall to see what sticks, I love creating crazy ingredients, and I love what seeing other people do with those ingredients. Once we were in a place to start R&Ding drinks specifically for LA I dove in head first. But you never walk into a R&D session with out a concept. The drink hiding up my sleeve that seemed to most fit this NoMad model I had learned was the Josephine Baker, updated with the new clarified Banana Sherry of course. 

If you check the NoMad compendium they make phenomenal drinks. They also rely heavily on sherry and a lot of small culinary touches. This comes from the collaborative R&D process as well as the fact that NoMad bar was birthed out of the bar at Eleven Madison Park which is absolutely driven by the mentality of its award winning kitchen. 

This was going to be the first time putting any of my drinks through this culinary tasting style with a group of incredibly talented, and opinionated, peers. I’m still amazed to this day how the process can create a drink that is both unrecognizable from the original yet still wholly in the same spirit and design. 

The first thing that became clear was that style of sherry needed to be dialed in. We quickly moved away from the darker amontillado in favor of an oloroso which left more acidity with the banana. The Banana Sherry was a crowd favorite and we decided to make it the star of the show. The banana sherry became the base of the drink instead of a modifier. 

To add back in some of the richness that the clarification process had stripped out of the sherry we turned to another classic NoMad ingredient, Brown Butter Falernum. Essentially a brown butter washed Velvet Falernum that add in baking spices, a rich mouth feel and tied back into that original idea of bruleed bananas and sherry that had inspired the flavor pairing. 

Finding the right balance was tricky because the Falernum can easily overwhelm. As a through line between the Sherry and the Falernum was added Blanc Vermouth. A touch of bitter to go with the vanilla that lengthened the flavors. It wasn’t quite bitter enough so a quarter ounce of Punt e Mes was also added to round out the effect. This firmly moved the drink out of the Old Fashioned style and into the Manhattan style, a subtle but important distinction. 

At this point I gave into my true desire to make every drink a whiskey drink and pulled the Zacapa and subbed it with Greenspot Irish Whiskey. This Pure Pot Stilled Irish Whiskey is aged in New American Oak. It has an intrinsic bright green banana note as well as the barrel tannins to be a base for all of these complex flavors to stand on. 

At this point the drink was good but the culinary drive for perfection kicked in and we went through countless more variations. The difference between them being a teaspoon of this versus a dash of that. The final touches were a teaspoon of Walnut Liquor to bring a bit more tannin and a nuttiness to compliment the banana as well as a teaspoon of Verjus Blanc to add in a hint of acidity to cut through all of the rich fruits and fats. 

The drink was now a lovely fruit forward, complex, surprisingly dry, low ABV stirred drink that still had enough depth and tannin to stand on its own as well as pair with food. It was a real crowd pleaser while still being esoteric and weird. It was my kind of drink. It just needed a garnish and a name. 

The garnish was easy. While I personally love an incredibly dry drink I know not everyone does. And the drink ingredients could read sweeter than the final product. So, to appease both types of drinkers a single brush stroke of chocolate ganache was added to the outside of the glass. This allowed the guest to choose their own adventure. If they wanted the drink slightly sweeter they could indulge in the chocolate or leave it alone. It also ads a look of elegance has an elegance that can sit just at the tip of the lips. 

The name quickly followed. While the drink had come miles and even years from its roots with Josephine her spirit, her dance, still infused every ounce of this drink and thus it was christened the Banana Dance. 

I love this drink. I think that the prep needed for it is relatively small considering the final product. Especially for the Banana Sherry. I was fortunate enough to finally utilize a version of this drink, with the Banana Sherry and Zacapa, at the World Class National Finals this past year bringing the drinks journey full circle. 

I’ll never create a drink that’s a modern classic but I hopefully will create things that inspire people and tickle their imagination. The NoMad just published a brand-new cocktail book and while sadly the Banana Dance didn’t make the cut the Banana Sherry did. Bright and bold at the top of the ingredients section is the recipe for Banana Sherry. 

Hopefully this little dance will continue to inspire people not only in my extended NoMad family but the entire cocktail community that has embraced me and given me so many opportunities this past decade. 

Photo Credit: Jordan Hughes
@highproofpreacher

The Banana Dance:

1.5 oz Banana Infused Oloroso Sherry (Preferably Lustau)
.5 oz Greenspot Pure Pot Still Irish Whiskey
.5 oz Blanc Vermouth
.5 oz Brown Butter Washed Velvet Falernum
.25 oz Punt e Mes
Tsp Verjus Blanc
Tsp Nocino

Combine All ingredients in a mixing glass.
Short stir with Kold Draft Ice.
Strain into stemmed cocktail glass painted with a chocolate ganache brushstroke.

Banana Sherry:

750 ml Oloroso Sherry
3 overripe bananas
3ml Pectin X

Blend all ingredients together.
Into the Spinzall spindle add 375ml and set to continuous mode.
Once the centrifuge reaches full speed pump the rest of the mixture in at 80ml/minute. The should run clear.
Once all liquid has been pumped into the centrifuge let it run for another 5 minutes then power down and strain the remaining liquid through a chinoios.
Bottle and store under refrigeration for up to three (3) weeks.

Brown Butter Falernum:

750ml Velvet Falernum
.5lbs unsalted butter

Cube butter and place in pot over medium heat. 
Melt and constantly whisk butter so that milk solids brown evenly
Continue to brown, whisking constantly, until as dark as the color of an almond skin
Remove from heat, and add velvet falernum
Transfer to cambro and place in freezer until the fat has risen and solidified on the top 
Remove solidified fat cap from top and discard
Bottle and store under refrigeration for up to one (1) month

Drinking Poetic (On A Christmas Wednesday): The Nutcracker

I’ve always felt disconnected from the Holiday season. While I grew up Catholic it has had been many a solstice since I identified as such. I’ve also spent the past 10+ years living 2,500+ miles from the family and friends I grew up with. As such when the holidays roll around I often find myself latching on to the traditions and celebrations of my friends. Which is why the one tradition that I do have from my childhood is so fascinating to me. 

When I was about 5 my grandfather gave me a nutcracker for Christmas. My siblings were so jealous that the next year he gave all four of us our own nutcrackers. It was a few more years, and arguments about which nutcracker belong to who, before we started putting our names on this ever-expanding collection. So while they ostensibly belonged to someone they were really just collectively ours. When my grandfather passed away my grandmother took up the tradition and it took on new meaning.  If you enter my family’s house at Christmas a veritable army of wooden soldiers, drummers, cobblers, and pirates stand ready to perform their ceremonial duty. 

Like all terrifying dolls the nutcrackers eventually escaped their Christmassy confines and spilled over into the rest of life. Currently sitting on my desk in the 70 degree California sunshine is a board short wearing, hipster beard sporting, surfer bro nutcracker that marked my first full year on the West Coast. It’s a touchstone that exists beyond its original conception. 

It also led to the creation of the Nutcracker Cocktail. 

The Nutcracker was originally conceived as a drink for the Heaven Hill Bartender of the Year competition a few years ago. I drew on all of the above thoughts about tradition and threw them into a glass. I wanted a drink that was very evocative of a time and place but that also existed outside of its “seasonality” just like the Nutcracker resting on my desk. 

I knew I wanted the drink to be based around Elijah Craig Bourbon. Not simply because it was one of the options for the competition but because it is an actual touchstone whiskey for me. The very first private barrel of whiskey I ever picked out was a barrel of Elijah Craig. It’s a whiskey that’s been my companion through my journeys behind bar since the very beginning. It carries a weight, a depth, a tannin, and an earthiness that makes it a classic backbone for a whiskey focused drink. 

Next, I wanted a solid bitter base to enhance the earthiness while also adding in an extra dry component to balance the sweet components I knew would inevitably make their way into the glass. The Clemanti China provided a suitable Manhattan-esque build while adding in a beautiful shock of the bitter. 

Next were the seasonal elements. You can’t call a drink “The Nutcracker” without any nuts so a touch of Nux Alpina Walnut Liqueur added in a discernable nuttiness to play off the base of the Elijah Craig. This Made the drink Nutty but still dry, too dry. To balance this a hint of Tempus Fugit Crème de Cacao added in both the Christmas sweetness and memories as well as a balance for the dry, dry, dry components. 

To tie it all together, and to add a hint of fruit to brighten up all of these dark nutty elements, a few finishing dashes of angostura orange bitters went into the mix. 

Now, this drink was fine. However, it didn’t evoke anything larger than itself to me. It was a wintery sipper that was Mostly just a slightly esoteric Manhattan. It needed something to pull it out of its time and place.  

I briefly considered making it a warm drink but that would have turned it into a drink that I had no interest in drinking. I almost universally hate hot beverages, from coffee to tea and everything in between. So, instead I turned to other childhood memories as well as my local Japanese grocery store. In both of those places I found chestnuts. 

Growing up there were several horse chestnut trees in my yard which when the chestnuts would fall I would end up chucking at my siblings as children do. And in the Japanese market there were wonderfully proportioned bags of roasted, soft chestnuts for the holidays. This was the missing factor for this drink. 

I pulled out the Spinzall and infused the chestnuts into the Elijah Craig, stirred everything together and expressed an orange zest over the drink tying in the underlying orange bitters. Now the drink sang. It was complex, fruity, dry with an intriguing sweetness, and was no longer simply a “Christmas Drink.” 

The Nutcracker:

1.5 oz Chestnut Infused Elijah Craig Bourbon
.5 oz Clemanti China Antique
.25 oz Hau Alperine Nux Walnut
.25 oz Tempus Fugit Crème de Cacao
2 Dash Angostura Orange Bitters

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass.
Stir with Kold Draft Ice.
Strain into a punch glass.
Garnish with an orange twist studded with clove. 

Revisiting this drink years later there are a few changes I would make. I might add a splash of Verjus to add in more acidity to the heavy nature of the ingredients. Or I might add in a touch of Oloroso Sherry to length the drink while staying rich and stirred. 

But then again, some traditions shouldn’t be over thought. 

Drinking Poetic: Cascading Lines

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This is the story of a drink that got away from me. 

As I’ve said before I tend to turn every drink into a brown, bitter, and stirred variation on a theme. It should therefore come as no surprise that I’ve been trying to play around with some version of a hopped Old Fashioned style drink for at least a few years. Long enough that the idea of using hops in a drink now seems cliché. 

The first iteration that almost made a menu was while I was the Bar Manager at Faith & Flower. Dubbed the “Whiskey Icarus” this drink combined a hopped honey, Bernheim wheat whiskey, and Riesling.

I remember the drink being refreshing and surprisingly crisp. With the memory of the drink in my head I brought it into the initial R&D sessions at NoMad. However, I was never able to recreate that remembered flavor. I’m not sure if it was the specific Riesling that was being used, a change in the hops, or a change in production method. This inability to replicate is a prime example of why you should keep detailed notes, especially with liquid R&D. 

I couldn’t put the idea down and when I was putting together the One Year Anniversary Menu for NoMad LA I dragged the drink back into the conversation.

It was a Frankensteined drink from the start. The original thread lost and reassembled using existing NoMad syrups and ingredients. I made a homemade apricot and barley tea bitters (which are still one of my favorite ingredients I’ve ever made) Verjus replace the wine, Lapsang Cacao instead of hops, and tried split base after split base. While the initial variations were some of the least liked ideas for the menu there was something about the drink that kept tugging at us. It was intriguing enough that we wanted to figure it out. 

The first think that needed to happen was stripping the drink back down to basics. What was the central premise of the drink? A hopped, old fashioned style drink reminiscent of mead.  

Once the basic concept was nailed down we started picking out the elements of the numerous variations that we had liked. 

The addition of the chocolate from the infused cacao was so nice that we decided to keep it and made a Cascade Hop infused cacao to replace the smoky Lapsang tea. 

The bitter, grapefruit notes from the hopes were now overwhelming the subtle stone fruit of the Apricot and Barley Tea Bitters, however the barley helped to reinforce the hop component so the bitters were replaced with a teaspoon of barley tea syrup and to get a touch of that fruit aspect back a quarter ounce of Grand Marnier was added. 

Next it was time to address the split base. Out of all of the combinations a split between bourbon and aged genever complimented the original base the best. We swapped bourbon after bourbon looking for something luxurious. The genever was the Boomsa Oude which was rich and malty but light on the barrel and the best bourbon pairing that wasn’t a limited release was the Henry McKenna Bottled in Bond. This was before its gold medal win so we stocked up once it started clearing out. 

Because of the split base it didn’t have as heavy of an oak presence and a teaspoon of vanilla was added to compensate. 

And then because it’s the NoMad we added aquavit and sprinkled a pinch of fluer de sel on top. 

At this point no one was leading the ship and the palate fatigue was strong but this was the most balanced of the new version. You could tell we weren’t quite satisfied with the drink but it made the menu. Renamed the “Cascading Lines” as play on the Cascade hops and the conflux over different threads that had to come together for this drink. 

As the drink rolled across the floor in the first week changes and tweaks were inevitable.  As we tasted it with fresh palates it quickly became clear that the Grand Marnier was completely unnecessary. The final change happened completely by accident. 

As a standard we use White Crème de Cacao. However, during our opening there was a delivery issue and we ended up with a case of Dark Crème de Cacao. After sitting on it for nearly 1.5 years this infusion seemed a perfect opportunity to clear some inventory space. What seemed like a nothing change actually lent a deeper note to the drink that actually let the hops shine in a more balanced way. 

The lesson I took away here was the importance of a directed focus and idea during the R&D process. This ended up being the best version of the Cascading Lines but is it the best version of this idea? I’m still hoping to see the Whiskey Icarus on a menu one day. 

Cascading Lines :
Tsp Vanilla Syrup (50 Brix)
.25 oz Barley Tea Syrup (50 Brix)
.25 oz Cascade hopped Dark Cacao
.5 oz Henry McKenna Bottled In Bond Bourbon
1 oz O.P. Anderson Aquavit
1 oz Boomsma Oude Genever

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass.
Short stir with 1×1 ice cubes.
Strain over a large 2×2 ice cube in a large rocks glass and garnish with a pinch of fluer de sel. 

Hopped Cacao:
15g Cascade hop pellets
1 liter dark crème de cacao
Vacuum seal.
Let set for 25 minutes.Pass through a chinois and store in a clean glass bottle under refrigeration for up to two (2) weeks. 

Drinking Poetic: The Panic Order

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I’m terrible at Vodka drinks. 

It sounds elitist, snobbish, and very hipster bartender of me but it’s a fact of life. I think the problem is twofold.  

1) Stylistically, I gravitate towards stirred, booze forward drinks that include some sort of odd characteristic. I go through phases: stirred citrus, clarified everything, fruit infused sherries, etc. I essentially want to turn everything into a stirred cocktail in a Nic and Nora 

2) I’m an elitist, snobbish, pseudo hipster bartender. 

 I’m often inspired by a base flavor and then continually layer, subtract, and accentuate characteristics until an equilibrium, or deliberate imbalance, is reached. Vodka by its very nature is designed to be clean, neutral, and mostly flavorless which doesn’t often provide that spark of flavor inspiration that sends me down the path. 

Alternatively, I’m also good at “concept cocktails.” These are drinks that start as a thought experiment with a definitive theme. Combine all of the above and you have the starting seeds of the Panic Order. 

We had a couple of factors (issues) to consider. We needed a new Vodka drink for the menu. Something that was lighter, refreshing, more spring and summer in style. We also needed something that was quick and efficient to execute. Labor costs are a real issue and when planning the current menu for NoMad LA we had to account for not only the efficiency of making the drink in the moment but also the amount of labor that could go into prep hours.  

We also had a surplus of these beautiful black highball glasses that were sourced when we first opened. They were for a drink that was cut from the opening menu and during a heavy events season my fellow Bar Manager, Dave Purcell, and I started to joke that we could solve our glassware shortage by putting all of our vodka sodas into these highballs and let everyone panic order them as they walked across the floor to alleviate service.

This got the gears turning. What would be vodka soda in style, more culinarily driven, and quintessentially L.A.? The answer was clearly Kombucha. 

I spent some time talking with the fermentation nerds that are our sous chefs and put together a kombucha base made from a blend of Assam black tea and Jasmine Pearl green tea. This base sits with the mother scobe for a week eating all those delicious sugars. After that week the fruit juices are added and it’s allowed to bottle ferment for another week. This is an incredibly versatile base that allows us to build out flavors in a lot of unique ways. 

Because I was thinking of labor costs and efficiency, I wanted to create a kombucha that had a lot of complexity that could ideally be kegged and turn this into a two-step drink: pour vodka and top with kombucha. I started with a base flavor that felt very spring and refreshing, honeydew melon. To add a complimentary complexity to this I added one of my favorite secret ingredients: bitter melon. 

Bitter Melon is actually a gourd that is used in a lot of eastern cooking and because of its intense bitterness is thought to have cancer fighting properties. This intense vegetal, green bitterness also plays incredibly well in cocktails, especially as a bitters for stirred citrusy drinks. In this case it helped balance the natural sweetness of the melon and ties in the tannins from the tea. To round everything out and add just a touch more acidity some fresh lime juice was also added to the mix. 

Kombucha modeling.

In my younger years this would have been where the drink stopped. It was fine, it fit the slot on the menu, wham bam let’s move along. But part of the process that I’ve grown to enjoy over the years is the collaboration and once this drink entered the R&D tasting with Dave, Leo Robitschek, and I it evolved dramatically.

After having worked with Leo for a year and a half what I’ve learned is that our minds work very different stylistically. I’ll often present a drink with an ingredient that he finds tantalizing, he then pulls it out of the drink, and then start building from the ground up again. In this case I was essentially presenting an ingredient masquerading as a full drink. To him the kombucha was fascinating as an ingredient but not as a drink on its own so we began breaking it down and started utilizing it like we would for a beer cocktail or other collins style drink with just a few ounces to finish the drink. 

We knew we had a vodka base so we started there. We then needed a touch of sweet to balance the whole concoction and this is the place that we were hung up on the longest. Basic syrups became too cloying, fruit liqueurs were overpowering the bitter melon, and the floral notes of St. Germain completely overtook the drink at even a half ounce. We eventually settled on Dolin Genepy which complimented the bitter undertones while adding a just a touch of sweet.

We now wanted to bump the vegetal notes so we added a cucumber to the tin for the shake, and lemon juice to compliment a traditional sour base. This made the drink distinctly more green but now the fruit notes were not as strong. We tried out a few drier fruit options and ended up with a quarter ounce of apricot brandy to round out the mouthfeel while also making the fruit shine. 

Throughout all these additions though the nice acidity of the kombucha was lost. To add that back in we turned to a few dashes each of two of the classic NoMad ingredients: yuzu and white balsamic. All it needed now was a garnish. I went back to the kitchen for some technical help and we started slicing honeydew melon in to wonderful ribbons that roll up and act as a melon flower growing out of the black highball. When the new menu went live the drink was at the top of the page on the right hand side so if you’re at the bar and don’t know what to get the Panic Order is ready and waiting for you. 

This, however, isn’t the end of the story. Things are constantly changing and evolving, one of the core tenants of the NoMad is “Constant Reinvention”, and this means constantly retasting drinks. On a recent whirl wind visit Leo was secretly ordering drinks for quality control. He loved the feel of the menu but felt that the Panic Order was too dry. We went though a mini R&D process again trying different basses ultimately ending up simply adding a teaspoon of agave. This makes the drink much rounder and balanced with a negligent increase in sweetness. Though as I sit here typing this I wonder what would have happened if we tried a half ounce of Green Chartreuse instead of the genepy… 

But, for now, our Panic Order is: 

1 cucumber slice
5 dashes of White Balsamic
5 Dashes of Yuzu
Tsp Agave
.25 oz Apricot Brandy 
.5 oz Dolin Genepy
.5 oz Fresh Lemon Juice
1 oz Absolut Elyx 

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Whip Shake and double strain over Kold Draft ice in a black highball. 

Top with Bitter Melon-Honeydew Kombucha, garnish with a Honeydew Melon Ribbon, and Keep Calm.

Bitter Melon-Honeydew Kombucha Recipe 

15g Assam Tea 
15 g Jasmine Pearl Green Tea 
1650ml Hot Water 

Steep each tea individually for 5 minutes each for a total brew time of 10 minutes.
Add another 1500ml water and 300g of sugar.
Mix Until sugar is fully dissolved.
Let this sweet tea cool then add the mother scobe.
Cover the container in cheesecloth and store in a cool, dry place for one week.
After a week gently remove the scobe and store in a clean container with 200ml of the mother vinegar.

To the kombucha base add:

250ml honeydew melon juice
100ml bitter melon juice
50 ml fresh lime juice

Bottle ferment in a cool, dry place for an additional week. 

Hand made and hand presented.


Drinking Poetic (on a Wednesday): The Los Angeles Sour

The Los Angeles Cocktail is terrible and is a perfect example of a bad drink that survives because it’s old. 

Buried within the pages of the Savoy Cocktail book, one of the quintessential drink tomes of the Golden and Modern cocktail age, is a drink that reads like a New Yorker describing their “totally real” visit to L.A. There are so many things that irritate me about this drink, the very first of which is that it’s not a damn cocktail!

A irreparably irritating recipe

Despite being listed alphabetically in the “cocktail” section there’s nothing about this drink that ties it to the traditional “cocktail” family of drinks. It contains no bitters and has enough citrus to dilute the base spirit beyond recognition. Apart from that the drink is described as serving four people, uses blended whiskey, powdered sugar, a whole egg, and only a “splash” of vermouth. It’s just a worse version of a New York Sour. While L.A. may have once been the subpar New York City that is certainly not the case any more and I think that’s what makes this drink stick in my craw.  

There are so many little things that are off about this drink that it’s stuck in my head for years. I’ve lived in LA for a decade now and I feel like I’ve earned the right to call myself an Angeleno, so if a drink is going to be named after our city it should be damn good drink. 

The first thing that I wanted to do to adapt this drink was scale it down. A drink designed for only four people is not efficient for service, though considering that L.A. often rolls twelve deep I can’t blame them for trying. Scaled down from four hookers (a measure of 2.5 ozs) to the standard 2 oz jigger of booze, a classic proportion of sour to sweet, and using an egg white instead of the whole egg creates a palatable, if completely forgettable, sour.  

This adjusted recipe reads: 

  • 2oz Whiskey 
  • 1 oz Fresh Lemon Juice
  • .75 oz Simple Syrup
  • 1 Egg White
  • 25 oz Vermouth 
  • Combine all ingredients in a mixing tin. Dry Shake. Shake With Ice. Double Strain. 

The next sticking point is that there’s nothing about this drink that actually says “L.A.” And while the same can be said about the New York Sour, which may have actually originated in Chicago, if we’re going to improve a drink why not make it more representative? With this in mind the inoffensively mediocre powdered sugar was swapped out for a 50 brix Piloncillo syrup. Pilconcillo, or panela, is an unrefined, whole cane sugar typical of Latin America. It is made from the boiling and evaporation of sugar cane juice. It is commonly used in Mexico and has more flavor than brown sugar which is often white sugar with a little added molasses. This gives the drink a richer texture while also tying it into the Latino heritage of Los Angeles. 

Elijah Craig and Dubonnet Improved Los Angeles Sour

Next up was the spirit base. The richer piloncillo syrup completely overwhelmed lighter whiskies so I turned to my trusty baseline: Elijah Craig Straight Kentucky Bourbon. This added a delightful tannin and vanilla note but was not playing nice with the vermouth and lemon. So, I traded the vermouth for the recently reconstructed American version of  Dubonnet Rouge. Served over a large rock with a float of the Dubonet the flavors were able to develop over time and the extra bitterness from the quina in the Dubonet helped tie the drink together. I actually used this drink for the regionals of the Heaven Hill Bartender of the Year competition this year and it’s absolutely delightful.

L.A. Sour: 

  • 1.5 oz Elijah Craig Small Batch 
  • .75 oz Piloncillo Syrup (50 Brix) 
  • .75 oz Fresh Lemon Juice 
  • 1 Egg White 
    • Dry Shake. Double Strain over one large ice cube. 
  • Float .75 oz Dubonnet Rouge  

There’s no practical need to go further than this. The drink is delightfully crowd pleasing, recognizable, and recreateable. I highly recommend making this version of the drink yourself.I couldn’t set the drink down though. It kept burrowing through my brain begging for attention. 

I have a natural disregard for “blended” whiskies. I find them light and forgettable but that doesn’t have to be the case. There are some beautiful blended malts  and grain whiskies on the market, and not all of them are Japanese. So, I broke down the components and built up a house whiskey blend to complement the flavors.  

It starts with an ounce of Bushmill’s 10 Year Single Malt. Irish Malt is lighter and fruiter than the more familiar Scotch malts while being more affordable than the Japanese counterparts. The Bushmills 10 also grants a solid barrel note and the vanilla that was coming from the Elijah Craig. Next, I wanted some spice and proof without overwhelming the delicate Irish malt so I added a half ounce of Old Overholt Bottled In Bond Rye. This added an oiliness, viscosity, and tannin that helped dry out the drink. 

Finally, to lengthen out the blend, a half ounce of grain whiskey was added. The Nikka Coffey Grain would have worked wonderfully, but the pricing and recent announcement that it was being discontinued shut that experiment down. Though I have recently heard that it is only discontinued in Japan with plenty of stock in the U.S. remaining so it may be worth revisiting. In the mean time I headed back to the Emerald Isle where the Teeling Single Grain offered a compliment to both the Bushmill’s Malt and the Overholt Rye bite.

This house blend was delightfully robust but the Dubonnet, instead of being a unifying factor, was now coming across as thin, just like the vermouth in the original spec. The drink needed something richer while still maintaining that vermouth bitterness and acid. It needed to be concentrated. With that in mind I turned to my favorite toy, the rotovap. Running Dolin Rouge through the rotovap produced two wonderful products.  

First a clear, concentrated vermouth flavored distillate. Second, a concentrated vermouth syrup that was left behind as the more volatile compounds were syphoned off. Both of these products are lovely, especially the syrup. However, I couldn’t imagine using this process to produce enough to maintain the volume of service that we do at NoMad LA so I went back to the drawing board. 

With this concentrated Vermouth reduction as a benchmark we found that a traditional stove top reduction with 50% sugar by weight produced a vermouth syrup that was, as my father would say, “Good enough for government work.”  

All the elements were now in place. Here was a drink that payed homage to its vintage roots, added in elements of the city it’s named for, and incorporated modern techniques, culinary thoughtfulness, and contemporary palettes and drinking styles. I’m also incredibly proud of the fact that this is the only drink I’ve ever put in front of our Bar Director Leo Robitschek that he had no tweaks for.  

The Los Angeles Sour now reads on the menu at NoMad LA as: 

  • 1 oz Bushmill’s 10 Year Single Malt 
  • .5 oz Old Overholt Bottled In Bond Rye Whiskey 
  • .5 oz Teeling Single Grain Irish Whiskey 
  • .75 oz 50 Brix Piloncillo Syrup 
  • .75 oz Fresh Lemon Juice 
  • 1 Egg White 
    • Dry Shake. Shake with Kold Draft Ice. Double Strain over one large Ice Cube
  • Float .75 oz Dolin Rouge Vermouth Reduction 

I do have to admit I’m cheating for the sake of a story. Leo did have one critique. I originally pitched the drink with aquafaba, (a vegan egg white substitute made from beans), instead of egg white because lord knows L.A. loves its dietary restrictions. Both versions of the drink past muster but the egg white variation felt more robust. But because of this original thematic pitch, and aa cheeky nod to L.A. drinkers, the Los Angeles Sour will always available “vegan upon request.”

Drinking Poetic: The Old Fashioned

“I prefer things the Old Fashioned Way!” said every generation ever as things changed around them.

The Old Fashioned is my favorite cocktail. It appeals to me on such a deeply intellectual level that it rivals the psychic imprint that Lord of the Rings had on me in the third grade. And the imprint this simple drink has had on the world of cocktails is just as deep. But what exactly is an Old Fashioned?

Due to the past 15 years of the Cocktail Resurgence and the dissemination of information on the Internet, most bartenders outside of Wisconsin will tell you that an Old Fashioned is a basic cocktail comprised of Spirit, sugar, bitters, and water/dilution. If they’re particularly good they might ask if you have a preference on Bourbon or Rye but most would balk at the idea of making it with a different spirit or, god forbid!, serving it up instead of on the rocks. Yet all of these are part of the innumerable variables that are a part of the drink’s history.

Over the past 200 years the drink has survived, thrived, been basterdized, been reinvented, reimagined and misunderstood. But why does it work?

An Old Fashioned is quite simply the Ur-Cocktail. The original, OG, never to be replicated, cocktail. Once upon a time, when words and facts still meant something, a cocktail was just one of many mixed drinks families that each had their own rules and regulations for entrance to the family retreats.

The original definition of “cocktail” first appears in a newspaper in Hudson, New York on May 13th, 1806. In answer to the question, “What is a cocktail?” editor Harry Croswell responds, “Cock-tail is a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters—it is vulgarly called bittered sling, and is supposed to be an excellent electioneering potion, in as much as it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head. It is said, also to be of great use to a democratic candidate: because a person, having swallowed a glass of it, is ready to swallow any thing else.” Sounds familiar doesn’t it?

While later generations of bartenders would claim the drink was invented at The Pendennis Club in the 1880s the etymological roots of the drink have always been more believable to me. As you may imagine drinks were made very differently in the early 1800s from how they are now, no matter how “pre-Prohibition” a place claims to be deep down we know it’s not the same. Now imagine that you actually did know what it used to be like and all these new changes, changes like plentiful ice and clean water for making simple syrup, are ruining your favorite drink. So instead of getting it done with all these new age techniques you would ask for your cocktail “the old fashioned way.”

It all starts with that base spirit. Forevermore this drink will be linked to whiskey but it works with any base spirit, any at all.

Over the past 200 years the drink has survived, thrived, been basterdized, been reinvented, reimagined and misunderstood. But why does it work? Why has this drink lasted through the centuries why so many others have disappeared to never be drunk again? This is what triggers my intellectual arousal.

What this drink does is trick our brains. It takes basic tools, and basic culinary science, and polishes the rough edges off of a spirit allowing the heart and magic that is the core of it’s flavor. Unlike a sour or a daisy that seeks to fully incorporate a wide range of flavors into one cohesive whole, essentially masking the alcohol, this seeks to enhance the elements that are already there. It highlights the spirit.

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It all starts with that base spirit. Forevermore this drink will be linked to whiskey but it works with any base spirit, any at all. Into the glass goes a fiery, untamed, uncultured pour of pure unadulterated water of life in what ever form you please. The base is laid and everything that emerges from this drink is birthed from this primordial ethanol ocean.

Bitters.jpgNext is added a few short dashes of bitters. Bitter is an interesting flavor. Science still debates why exactly we taste bitter but the general consensus is that we evolved the capacity as a way to detect poisonous plants. This is also why a little bitter goes such a long way. Our brains are hardwired to recognize the bitter before anything else. It doesn’t matter how mouthwatering delicious something is if it’s going to ultimately kill you. Now couple this with the fact that pure alcohol is actually poison but doesn’t actually taste like anything. What we often recognize as “alcohol” is really just the upfront burn. This touch of bitter is a stage magician. We’re so focused on the bitter that we don’t notice the alcoholic burn that it just slipped past our taste buds.

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But bitter tastes are unpleasant and while it only takes a splash to fool our monkey brains the end drink shouldn’t taste bitter. This is where a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. A touch of sweetener rebalances the added bitter element. It should not be sweet, it should not be cloying, it should be just enough to balance the flavor scales.

Ice.jpgNext up is dilution. While alcohol itself has no flavor it acts as a great transport for flavor. Ethanol caries those flavors molecules in a magical solution but it keeps them locked up tightly. A little dilution opens those locks and lets the heart, the true flavor burst through.

Then the drink is finished the same way it’s started with a touch of aromatic, these days in the form of expressed citrus oils to enhance the newly awakened flavors but in the drinks proto-form nutmeg was also used. The idea is once again to sneak past that alcohol burn, except this time we’re pulling a fast one on our olfactory sense.

All of this combines for the perfect cocktail. All of the parts are interchangeable. Change the sugar for vermouth and you end up with a Manhattan or a martini. Swap the dash of bitters for a grand bitter like Campari, a bottled form of that bittersweet, and you end up with a negroni or a boulevardier. Or simply take the sugar, turn it into a simple syrup, fully dilute the cocktail and serve it up and you end up with a New Fashioned Cocktail. The very process and innovation that the first drinker shook their fist at and declared that they wanted an Old Fashioned with their muddled sugar cube and ice IN the glass.

So, after all that how do I drink my Old Fashioneds? Intellectually.

But also with a small brown sugar cube soaked with Angostura bitters, just enough to saturate the cube, then dropped into the bottom of a rocks glass. Add a splash of soda water, just enough to allow the bitters soaked sugar to be easily and fully muddled. Add two ounces of Bonded Rye whiskey, a large ice cube, stir, and then express the oil from a small slice of lemon and of orange over the top. Sip, drain, and repeat until the dawn comes.

Drinking Poetic: The Hemingway Daquiri

I feel a certain kinship with Hemingway. I’d like to think it’ because we both have an affinity with words but there’s no denying that the legend of Hemingway has been at least as influential as the man himself. And just like the man himself the truth is always more complicated.

Hemingway was, like most people of his time, an equal opportunity drinker. While in contemporary imagination he’s associated with whatever the masculine drink of the time is, his own writing talks about him drinking absinthe, brandy, champagne, wine, beer, and whatever else the local drink of choice was. But to modern day bartenders Hemingway equals rum.

In his later days Hemingway became synonymous with Cuba, Havana, and La Floradita. If you believe bartending myth La Floridita may have been the first bar to serve a Frozen Daiquiri but it is with out doubt the first place to serve the Papa Doble. Which is a drink better known as the Hemingway Daiquiri

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Hemingway was convinced he was diabetic, though it was probably a larger underlying health issue, and insisted on his drinks being sans sugar. He also insisted on them being quite stiff to counteract the pain caused by the same underling condition. In an effort to accommodate the prolific drinking of the Nobel Laureate the Papa Doble was created. Crafted with a double shot of rum per Hemingway’s request, subbing in Maraschino Liqueur for the sweetener, and adding grapefruit juice to make the concoction more palatable. Hemingway probably drank it with Bacardi at the time so we know it was with light rum and the pretty standard recipe these days goes as follows:

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2 oz Light Rum
1 oz Fresh Grapefruit
.5 oz Maraschino
.5 oz Fresh Lime
.25 oz Simple Syrup

Shake with ice, Double Strain into a stemmed cocktail glass.

For many who do see Hemingway as the pinnacle of the uber-masculine this drink doesn’t jive with their expectations. The drink is citrus and fruit, it’s served up, and despite the adjustments still has a certain sweetness. Also, it ignores the fact the citrus in Cuba is simply different than what we get in the States.

I think this juxtaposition comes from the never-ending misconception that somehow drinks have gender, as well as a misunderstanding of masculinity. In addition it shows a lack of experience with how drinks can have a time and place. They’re not a one-size fits all occasion. I believe it also ties into a basic misunderstanding of rum itself.

“The chief fuddling they make in the island is Rumbullion, alias Kill-Divil, and this is made of sugar canes distilled, a hot, hellish, and terrible liquor.”

Unlike spirits like whiskey, tequila, or cognac the rules for making rum are wide and varied. Rum can also literally be made anywhere. New England used to be the rum capitol of America for Christ sake. So from island to island, distillery to distillery, and drinker to drinker “rum” means something different.

Let’s start with the basic misunderstanding of color as a classification. For much of the world rum is Light, Dark, or Gold. But that doesn’t actually tell us anything about the process being used to make the rum. A much better, but equally challenging, classification can be made using history.

The history of rum is in many ways the history of the sugar trade in the Caribbean, which also ties it deeply to the slave trade. The Triangle Trade would bring slaves to work the sugar plantations in the Caribbean, take sugar and molasses to the colonies, and return to Europe loaded with rum and tobacco ready to start the process all over again.

The life of slaves in the Caribbean was truly torturous. Life expectancy on the plantations was a mere 7-9 years after being abducted. Harvesting and refining sugar cane was an extremely dangerous proposition so who would blame someone trapped in that kind of life for take this by-product, this molasses, and starting to ferment and distilling it. Anything to take the edge off, even if the end result was that, “The chief fuddling they make in the island is Rumbullion, alias Kill-Divil, and this is made of sugar canes distilled, a hot, hellish, and terrible liquor.”

As the trade grew, sailors, and yes this included pirates, had a need for spirits for their journeys and this “Rumbullion” started to become more refined as the disparate cultures brought their own distillation traditions and practices to the islands they controlled. This styles roughly correlate to what islands were colonized by the English, The French, and the Spanish.

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The English style is often labeled as “traditional.” This are the rums made from molasses fermented for 2-3 days and distilled using pot stills. These pot stills are inefficient, meaning they don’t distill to as high a proof as modern column/industrial stills, but they also strip out less flavor leaving behind a lot of the “hugo” or rum funk that is incredibly noticeable in Jamaican style rums. These are typically big, powerful, funky, full flavor rums and many are left at a higher proof.

In contrast, the Spanish style can always be described as “light rum.” And this is wheredownload-1.jpg that confusion comes into play because the use of the word “light” here has nothing to do with color, it’s all about the flavor. “Light rum” is a rum that is lighter in flavor than a traditional pot still rum. Still molasses based but with a shorter fermentation time, often times only a scant 24 hours, and then continuously distilled on column stills. This was a style that was developed in Cuba in the late 19th century and is the style still practiced by Havana Club and Bacardi. These are the majority of the rums on the market. They’re easier and cheaper to make it bulk. But because they carry less flavor it doesn’t matter what color they are or how long you age them they will always be light rum.

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Then there’s the French. Always doing things their own way. The French style of Rhum Agricole developed as mainland France moved away from importing sugar due to events like the Haitian slave rebellion and the English navy making the process too problematic. So, they began refining sugar from sugar beets on the mainland. This left the French controlled Caribbean islands with less reason to refine their sugar cane nectar and they began distilling it instead. This results in a grassier, greener spirit that has more in common with Brazilian cacchaca than its traditional or light rum island cousins.

And these are just the baseline styles of traditionally made rums. We haven’t even gotten into blended rums, heavy rums, or god forbid Inlander Rum. Confusion is almost inevitable.

Back to the Papa Doble, when you take into account the fact that this was being made with the Cuban style light rum the double shot request seems less the demands of an alcoholic, and more the demands for more flavor from a man used to massive flavors. The same can be said for the substitution of maraschino for the sweet and the grapefruit juice, all of this meant to soften the edges of that fiery Rumbullion and results in a drink that is flavorful yet relatively dry.

Trust a nerd to use science to try to get drunk like their literary hero.

You’ll notice that the modern recipe above adds back in a touch of sugar. This probably happened to address modern palettes but also as an attempt to balance the inconsistencies of the fresh juice being used. Balancing bright, fresh squeezed lime and grapefruit is always a different story than balancing day old juice. This is where my problems with the drink start to emerge from the literary shadows. Honestly I find it a sugary mess. Maraschino liqueur has a funk of it’s own, but is also relatively sweet and wars with the grapefruit in my opinion. I also find that for a drink that was designed to be dry it comes often comes out too sweet with the balance of the grapefruit and lime often not being balanced. My solution? Kirschwasser.

A true, traditional German Style Kirschwasser grants all of the cherry flavor but none of the extra sweetness of the Maraschino making it an easier drink to balance. Kitschwasser was also another favorite tipple of Hemingway so it keeps it all in the family. I also like something a little punchier so I like to add a splash of a more traditional pot still rum to the mix. My standard recipe for this is:

1 oz Light Rum
.5 oz Over Proof Jamaican
.5 oz Kirschwasser
1 oz Fresh Grapefruit
.5 oz Fresh Lime
.25 oz Cane Syrup

Shake with ice. Double Strain and serve up.

The cane syrup adds just that touch of sweet to balance what is truly a very dry, very funky little sour now.

But being the nerd I am I can’t stop there. While trying to correct the balance issues of the drink I’ve made it more complicated to make in the moment. And it can still be thrown off by one person solera aging your juice bottles so I solved the problem like I solve all problems these days, by throwing a centrifuge at it.

Well, technically it’s clarifying the day old grapefruit juice, creating a cordial out of it and then acid correcting it to lime strength. This means balancing the acids inherent in grapefruit juice to the same as lime juice which balances out at 4g citric and 2g malic acid per liter of juice. This way the balance of sweet to the sour is always exactly what I want it to be, and has the bright consequence of turning this light rum drink into a light looking drink. In this form the Jamaican rum becomes a bit overpowering so the last tweak is subbing in some high proof agricole for a more floral punch.

Trust a nerd to use science to try to get drunk like their literary hero:

1 oz Light Rum
.5 oz Rhum J.M. 100 Proof
.5 oz Kirschwasser
1 oz clarified, lime strength grapefruit cordial

Stir with ice. Strain Up and serve with a Lime Twist.

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Drinking Poetic: West of Brooklyn

I’m sentimental in my head. I say head because I’m less emotionally sentimental and more intellectually sentimental, meaning that I hold on to things because I feel like I’m supposed to. This often means I find myself with collections of stuff that sometimes seem to stick around simply because it’s already stuck around.

Enter The West of Brooklyn, a drink that is now pushing its 6th consecutive year on my cocktail menus.

It certainly wasn’t planned that way and if you had asked me five years ago what drink of mine I’d still be making half a decade later it wouldn’t have been this one. I was young(er) and getting super into bespoke cocktails and was currently working my way through the Neighborhood Series and thought, “I want in on that.”

The Neighborhood Series was lineup of drinks from the Milk & Honey family and friends in New York that gave us some modern classics like the Cobble Hill, The Green Point, and the Red Hook. All of these drinks grew out of one simple fact: The Brooklyn Cocktail is terrible.

The classic Brooklyn Cocktail was first printed in 1910 in Jack’s Manual and is often modernly interpreted as:

2 oz Rye Whiskey (Preferably a Bottled-In-Bond)

.5 oz Dry Vermouth

.25 oz Maraschino

.25 oz Amer Picon

Looking at this you can see that it’s not the Brooklyn’s Fault that it’s terrible. Today we’re missing a vital ingredient: old school Amer Picon.

Amer Picon is a classic bitter orange French liqueur that also has notes of gentian, cinchona, and quinine that is no longer available in the States. But even if you were to get your hands on a bottle of it from France the recipe was changed in the 1970’s reducing the proof and making it sweeter. This means it doesn’t make the same drink. I’ve been fortunate to have classic Amer Picon and a classic Brooklyn thank to Andrew Willet over at Elemental Mixology and it’s a damn tasty drink. And for what it’s worth Andrew believes that CioCiaro makes a Brooklyn that more closely matches the classic.

Looking at this family of drinks and personally loving stirred drinks that add a subtle element of citrus or fruit I set about to add my own Neighborhood Cocktail.

At the time I was just getting started at Areal a mere block from the Pacific Ocean and was living in Venice Beach. I had moved West instead of to NYC where I would have more than likely settled in Brooklyn so before I started I already had a name: The West of Brooklyn. It was only later that I realized that Manhattan is also ‘West of Brooklyn’ but I will retroactively take credit for being that clever.

My base was clearly going to be Rittenhouse BIB Rye but knowing I was never going to get my hands on pre-70s Picon I looked for a more readily available substitute. Bigalett’s China-China had just hit the market so I pulled out a bottle of that and started mixing. I was enamored of Blanc Vermouth at the time so that joined the Bigalett and being in California and also being rather disparaging of maraschino, I looked around for a orange liqueur and ended up with a bottle of Solerno Blood Orange and thought, “That’ll do.”

That pretty much sums up my mentality about this whole drink with this first pass. I didn’t put enough thought into it. It looked like this:

2 oz Rittenhouse BIB Rye

.5 oz Bigalett China-China

.25 oz Blanc Vermouth

.25 oz Solerno Blood Orange

Stir. Served up with a Lemon Zest.

It ended up being a bit of an aggressively blunt instrument but it went on the menu and people seemed to enjoy it. It fit the bitter and stirred category and I let it be. I replaced it on the next printed menu but we had a cocktail board in the bar at Areal with drawings for every drink and our artist had been so pleased with her artwork that she wanted to leave it on the wall. I shrugged and gave it no thought.

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People would continue to order the drink but it wasn’t until I had a customer come in and tell me that he had been in several times over the past months just for the drink because he liked it so much that I realized I had been making the drink for two years. I felt like I should revisit it.

I found the Bigallet was completely taking over the drink, but any attempt to dial it down just caused it to be lost. So I went back to the drawing board looking for a Grand Bitters to take its place and I started playing with the Clementi China Antica. The Clemanti focuses more on the bitter quinine notes without the orange which turned out to be perfect for the drink since I was adding the orange notes with the Solerno. But again any attempt to use less than a half ounce caused it to be lost when butting heads with the power of Rittenhouse so the drink remained a blunt instrument, albeit a drier more whiskey-focused one.

I left it at that an ended up leaving that bar. I honestly thought that would be the end of the drink. But as we were doing R&D for my first menu at Faith and Flower my friend Ryan Wainwright and I were doing an event at Seven Grand LA celebrating the Manhattan and lo and behold the drink came up. The night was being sponsored by Buffalo Trace and Sazerac Rye and suddenly the drink clicked.

In the years since I first got into the LA bar scene Sazerac Rye was highly allocated so trying to use it in a featured menu drink was a touchy proposition and that mentality stuck with me even as the rye became more available. Sazerac is a lighter, less aggressive rye than Rittenhouse with more of a green apple spice, and edges that bleed into ripe fruit. Switching out Sazerac allowed me to dial down the Clemanti Antica and bring up the blanc vermouth making it more true to its family of drinks while leaving it elegant, with a white pepper spice tied with a subtle fruit that has a perceived sweetness before drying on the palette. It now looked like:

2 oz Sazerac Rye Whiskey

.5 oz Dolin Blanc Vermouth

.25 oz Clemanti China Antica

.25 oz Solerno Blood Orange

Stir with ice. Strain into a Nic and Nora glass with a lemon zest.

The drink perfectly fit the summer time Manhattan vibe we were looking for the menu and it was resurrected. And as I sit here doing R&D for the Fall/Winter menu it finally looks like the drink will truly come off the menu for the first time in five years. Until I change it again…

Drinking Poetic (on a Wednesday): Highballs

I’m a whiskey purist. Bourbon, Scotch, Japanese, Barrel Strength, it doesn’t matter, I drink it neat. For years I was determined that not even a drop of water would come between myself and my sweet, sweet barrel aged nectar. What’s changed me? The highball.

Highball_Signal_Jun_12      The highball is nothing new. It’s a simple class of drinks: a shot of spirit diluted with several ounces of a carbonated beverage on ice. My favorite rationale for where the term “highball” originated from comes from the old railroad days. Along the rail tracks there were “highball” signals where a ball would be hoisted out of a barrel signaling that the track ahead was clear and the trains could travel full speed ahead. A “highball” drink was at the time served in a highball glass with a single lump of ice. As the soda was added to the glass the ice would rise just like the highball signal telling drinkers they could dive in at full speed as well as quickly down the remainder of the drink when their train pulled in.

Like most classic it was simple, easy, and was much abused during the 70s, 80s and 90s becoming barely recognizable but it’s still a class of drinks that people still know the name for.  But the highball that interests me, the undiluted purist, is a straight whiskey soda.

My first highball in Japan was out of a can.

Ask for a Whiskey Highball in the U.S.A and there’s a good chance you’re going to end up with a whiskey and ginger and even this combo wasn’t enough for the sugar loving American palette and has been vastly over shadowed by its cousin the Jack and Coke. But in Japan the Whisky Highball has been elevated to an art form. I had heard the hype but it wasn’t until I visited Tokyo this year that I finally understood.

My first highball in Japan was out of a can.  I would never even consider getting a canned mixed drink from a 7/11 in the States but when you cross the international date line and land in the future and your hotel room isn’t ready for another 7 hours what else are you supposed to do while walking through the city?

From the moment that can touched my lips all I drank for the rest of that trip was highballs. And what struck me everywhere was the balance and the quality.

It was expected in Ginza. It was a random bar that we didn’t know the name of. The bartender knew maybe a handful of English words but when we ordered Suntory Highballs he enthusiastically pulled every Suntory whisky he had from the back bar to try and walk us through which one we actually wanted, and then thoughtfully poured the whisky over hand carved ice, stirred, and topped with soda before continuing on to casually brulee half of a passion fruit for the garnish of another customers drink. But when the highball at the chain ramen shop where you have lunch is just as elegant you know there’s something special happening.

It’s an attention to detail and a respect for the process. Each person who poured me a highball had respect for the process in their own way. Its easy to see, and taste, why highballs are a cultural force in Japan. And with the rise of Japanese Whisky across the world the Japanese are trying to export their highball ethos as well.

Suntory and Nikka have both made moves to position themselves in the highball world. Suntory has even released the Suntory Toki in the states, a blend specifically designed for the taste profile, and price point, of a highball. But the problem for me with the Highball in the States is the soda. Doesn’t matter how good or finally designed your whisky is the moment it is smothered by carbonated water from the gun, or drowned with a bottle of Canada Dry it’s lost it’s edge. There’s just simply a difference in the quality of bubbles.

Its odd to call a machine thoughtful but all good bartending has a certain degree of prep that happens behind closed doors.

Enter the Toki Highball machine. My first thought on hearing about this highball machine was why the hell would I need a machine to make the simplest drink on the planet?! But after my eyes were opened in the Land of The Rising Sun I approached the machine in a new light.

The design and execution of this machine are thoughtful. Suntory was aware of the problems of trying to export their highball style and worked to eliminate as many roadblocks as possible. Not only does the machine have the necessary refillable whisky tank, but also a separate water cooling system. It then carbonates with amazing specificity and will dispense the sparkling water independent of the whisky. My bubbles problem was solved.

It also adds a measure of thoughtfulness back into the process. Its odd to call a machine thoughtful but all good bartending has a certain degree of prep that happens behind closed doors. Whether it’s batching, technique training, or infusion,s a good portion of our job is doing the work out of sight so that the customer can sit at the bar and enjoy a seamless, delightful night out on the town. And the behind the scenes work has definitely been done to bring these highballs from Tokyo to LA.

So rejoice! Tonight is the unveiling of the Toki Highball machine at Faith and Flower. Come see exactly what I mean.